


the promise to teach wildness

by kimaracretak



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, First Meetings, Power Play, Pre-Canon, Undressing, Villanelle-Typical Humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-14 02:31:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19264144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/pseuds/kimaracretak
Summary: Oksana and Nadia meet in prison.





	the promise to teach wildness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [engmaresh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/engmaresh/gifts).



The new girl is thrown into her cell three days after Oksana walked herself into the tiny concrete room under the heavy hands of three guards.

Oksana ignores her in favour of worrying the cuts under her fingernails: it doesn't do to show too much interest in prison. She ignores the drab olive jumpsuit with its pushed-up sleeves, she ignores the fingerprint bruises ringing wrists too fragile to last long doing prison labour. She ... considers the stray curls of black hair clinging to the corners of the girl's mouth, stuck there with spit or blood or a mixture of both.

Her eyes are half-shut, just the soft gleam of white peeking out below swollen lids. Her jaw is nudged a little too far to the side.

And she's pretty, the prettiest thing Oksana has seen in weeks. Far too pretty to be in this prison; far too pretty to be ignored.

A present?

Oksana considers that, too, as she rolls over on her side and stretches out a hand just far enough to poke a curious finger through the tear in the girl's shirt. The skin is soft enough to catch on the burnt edges of her fingertips.

 _A present_.

The girl stirs, presses herself forward into what must be the first nonviolent touch she's felt all day. Very new, then, or maybe just important enough that the doctors have drugged her - but no, if she were that important, they wouldn't have put her in a cell with Oksana.

Oksana crawls off her excuse for a bed and kneels over the girl. She blows an experimental breath across her face: the strands of hair flutter up from her lips, and Oksana breathes in the sharp, lovely scent of blood.

"Wake up," she says.

The girl doesn't stir. Oksana leans closer, so close their noses are almost touching, so close their eyeballs could kiss, if the girl would move her eyelids just a little bit higher.

" _Wake up wake up_ ," Oksana sings, and the girl frowns in her artificial sleep, three cute little lines tracing themselves down the centre of her forehead.

She's still pretty. Oksana is annoyed by that, by how much it makes her want her. She already wants to leave this place, there shouldn't be enough room left over for other things. The girl could be a liability. Or …

Oksana rocks back on her heels, and her kneecap clicks against the jut of the girl's hip. "Do not make me take you to the showers to wake you up. I will not get in trouble for drowning such a pretty present."

This draws a groan from the girl's throat, and finally her eyes open all the way. Her pupils are overly dilated, shiny with tears. The sort of eyes Oksana would feel bad about shooting out, if she ever had to.

" _Kak - kak tebya zavout?_ " The words are slurred, accented in a way that makes Oksana's lip curl. Later, she'll think that was the moment she knew the two of them would never last, when Nadia spoke and pulled herself out of Oksana's daydreams.

Nadia's fault, even if Oksana was never sure she wanted anything else. Nadia's fault for asking for her name, as though she'd earned that sort of intimacy just by waking up.

In the moment, on the cell floor, Oksana puts on her best, most innocent smile, just for the girl " _Katis'-ka ty k chertovoy materi, ne govoryu ya po russki, v pyatyy raz povtoryayu._ " She's not sure what makes her say that in Russian, except, perhaps, that the girl has the sort of face that is made for begging to be toyed with, that she wants the sweet thin lines on her forehead to stay until Oksana herself kisses them away.

The girl rolls over on her side, just far enough to spit blood on the floor next to Oksana. "Yes, you do," she says, and Oksana sighs. No fight at all in those bland English words, but they do make her curious about what else she can make the girl do with just her smile.

"Maybe if you tell me your name," she says, and tilts her head in the way everyone's always told her is irresistible.

It hasn't worked on the guards so far, but the girl wipes her slick mouth with the back of her hand and says, "Nadia."

"Pretty name for a pretty girl," Oksana says approvingly, and Nadia blushes and doesn't meet her gaze but doesn't look down either.

She also doesn't say anything, and Oksana rolls her eyes. "That was your invitation, okay? I am nice. You are pretty. Prison is boring. Fucking helps pass the time, but if you would prefer to attempt to escape by burning through the wall with your eyes instead, I will not stop you."

Nadia remains silent a moment more, but it's a calculating one now, her gaze fixed on Oksana's breasts. She hasn't been here long enough to learn how to disguise her hunger.

"You only look at me like that, okay? The other girls, they don't like it so much."

"And you do?"

Oksana shrugs. "Of course. What is there not to like?" She flings her arms up in open invitation. "Take my shirt off. See for yourself."

Nadia sits up, lip caught adorably between her teeth. "And if I do?"

"Then we have fun," Oksana sighs. "Do I spell everything out for you? Or perhaps I demonstrate?" She slides one hand between her legs, presses against her cunt just hard enough to tease.

She's caught by surprise when Nadia lunges forward, kisses her hard and clumsy with her tongue too eager and her teeth in all the wrong places, but the first spark of life is enough to send arousal spiking up Oksana's spine.

"Good?" Nadia asks, and there's enough of a pleasing note in her voice that Oksana thinks this may be fun in many ways.

Oksana pretends to consider while Nadia waits, kneeling to mirror Oksana's position and her lips still parted. "Sloppy," Oksana says, and Nadia's face falls. "But good!" she adds, and Nadia brightens again. On and off, more regular than the lights. She scrambles to her feet and drops to the bed, grinning and opening her legs in invitation. "Show me more."

Nadia moves forward still on her knees, fingers scrabbling at Oksana's clothes as if by tearing them apart she might rip her way out of prison, under Oksana's skin. Oksana closes her eyes, leans back and wonders if perhaps she might try to find a way to take Nadia with her after all.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Kak tebya zavout?_ = What's your name?
> 
>  _Katis'-ka ty k chertovoy materi, ne govoryu ya po russki, v pyatyy raz povtoryayu_ = Go to hell, for the fifth time, I don't speak Russian. (A very rude way to say 'I don't speak Russian' that actually demonstrates a fair knowledge of Russian).


End file.
